


Ink

by edgehog



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, and a joke about the federalist papers, don't read them, gross sin, how about a, read about sex instead, seriously just a blowjob, sin - Freeform, which are very boring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-27 06:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13875510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgehog/pseuds/edgehog
Summary: Burr probably did use squid ink at one point. The man spent almost $400 on a coconut, for Christ's sake.





	Ink

It turned out that Hamilton was just like any other man.

Burr had almost expected him to leak ink at the tip.

Instead it was opaque, thick. Warm. Milky.

Certainly not like any ink in his experience. Not like the economical black walnut ink they used for interoffice correspondence, despite how gritty and watery and difficult to use it was -- or the pricey India ink used for client correspondence -- not even like the squid's ink that was used, Hamilton said, by Kings and Chancellors. "And Washington." He'd smiled at Burr. "I guess that's too dear even for your purse-strings," he said.

Thinking Alex would come in bursts of jet-black was just a stupid fantasy, of course. The sight of reality chased it away.

So Burr closed his eyes.

He was warm, yes: and salty: with an underlying bitterness.

Somewhere above him, Alex moaned. His hand flexed on the back of Burr’s head.

It was a little surprising. Burr didn’t expect that he was doing anything spectacular - not that any man alive would turn down an offer of fellatio from even the most inept individual - but still, he found it difficult to believe Hamilton's noise.

Alex moaned again and Burr reconsidered his position.

He moved off the head - ignored the mumbled complaint - and began to explore, following his curiosity, using tongue and breath and (delicately) his fingers to play with the tender skin.

“Fuck,” said Alex, so clearly and loudly that it penetrated even the haze in Burr’s mind. “Fuck."

Burr imagined the servants heard it, below them; he imagined a flight of birds lifting from the roof in shocked response.

“Burr, I’m — I want to —“

“Not in my mouth,” said Burr. He had a few limits.

“Hurry up, then,” said impatient Alex.

So he did. Taking it inside, swallowing, feeling his mouth press against the skin, as it twitched inside him, as Alex jerked forward involuntarily.

Burr had always had good reflexes: he pulled off in time. And was rewarded by the sight of Hamilton spraying sticky splatter over his own green coat, of which he was so proud. “The pits of fashion,” Jefferson had called it, sneering; privately Burr thought Jefferson was only envious. That rich dark green would be terrible with his complexion.

Hamilton saw it and complained, of course. “You could have moved my coat.”

“You put it there yourself.” Burr stood, dusting his knees. They ached, too - not that he would confess that. However did women put up with these indignities? He looked at Hamilton - who was looking down at his own body, buttoning and rearranging himself, staring as though he needed to watch to make sure he did it right.

“Well?” said Burr.

Hamilton made a face. “That wasn’t the best I’ve ever had.”

“I didn’t hear you voice any complaints between the moans of pleasure.”

“Pleasure,” said Hamilton. “Hah” — but there was no bite to his words; his eyes were soft and his mouth languid. He shrugged - a deliberate air of insouciance - and it almost worked. Almost. He said: “Fine. I’ll write the goddamned essays for you, Burr. Remind me what they're about?”

“Madison is calling it The Federalist Papers ...”

**Author's Note:**

> Burr probably did use squid ink at one point. The man spent almost $400 on a coconut, for Christ's sake.


End file.
